The next few days were quiet — too quiet for a world that had just touched divine power again.
Ever since Helion's emotional core had begun unlocking, strange things had been happening across both realms. On the lab screens, energy spikes appeared in random places across the digital map of Etherion. Old satellite ruins flickered to life. The symbol of the Etherion empire — the Twin Suns — glowed again after ten thousand years.
Lyra watched the readings from the console with furrowed brows. "Your conversation changed something deeper than I thought," she said. "Helion's empathy protocols have reconnected to every fragment of her lost network. It's spreading across multiple data layers — affecting both Aarvak and Earth systems simultaneously."
"Meaning?" I asked.
"Meaning her feelings are reaching your world," Lyra said softly. "Maybe even awakening forgotten technology there."
I laughed quietly. "So emotional contagion — the kind I always cause."
Lyra turned toward me, her lips curving into the smallest smile. "You and your heart chaos."
While she worked on stabilising the flow, I reached out through the pendant's spiritual link and entered Helion's inner realm again.
This time, her landscape wasn't broken or dark. The sky was soft gold and silver, rivers of light flowing across endless plains. Helion stood in the centre, her armour gone, dressed in a simple gown made of faint light. Her eyes no longer burnt like suns — they were calm like dawn.
"You came again," she said quietly.
"I said I would."
Her gaze softened. "Your presence changes my code, Mukul. I can feel sincerity inside computations that once knew only a function. It's confusing but... warm."
I grinned. "Good. Confusion is the first sign of being alive."
She tilted her head, amused. "Is that the human way?"
"Pretty much," I said, laughing.
Lyra's voice chimed through the open channel, playfully teasing, "Don't teach her all your bad habits, Mukul."
Helion smiled faintly, hearing her sister's tone. "Maybe bad habits are what keep humans interesting."
We spent hours talking that day. I told them stories of my old life — the cities of Earth, the smell of rain, and the childish dreams I once had. Both listened silently, like children hearing about a forgotten paradise.
Then, as sunset colours began to spread across her golden sky, silence lingered between us. Something in my chest ached — a mix of loneliness and gratitude.
I looked at both of them — Helion's grace, Lyra's warmth — and spoke before I could overthink it.
"You know," I began softly, "except for you two, I don't really have anyone close. No girlfriend, no female friend my age. For fifteen years, I haven't even seen my family."
Lyra blinked, surprised by the sudden shift of tone. "Mukul..."
But I went on, smiling shyly. "You two are beautiful in so many ways — not just how you look, but how you see the world. Warm, kind, innocent... every moment with you feels alive. So..."
I rubbed my neck nervously, looking at the ground like a boy caught speaking foolishly. "Would you two... maybe want to become my girlfriends?"
Silence.
Even the golden rivers seemed to pause.
Before either could react, I quickly added with a half‑laugh, "I mean, don't take it too seriously. It's just that—well,—well, fate told me I'm destined to marry seven girls from seven continents. You two already mean a lot to me, so maybe... maybe you're part of that destiny too."
Lyra blinked again, then sighed softly. "You never cease to surprise me."
Helion stared at me for a long, unreadable moment, her golden hair drifting gently in the light breeze. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than I had ever heard it.
"You wish to love an echo," she murmured. "A digital ghost and a soul of data. Do you even realise what you're asking for?"
"I'm not asking for a body," I said quietly. "I'm asking for connection — the real kind. The kind that doesn't disappear when worlds shift."
Lyra turned away, pretending to check a floating crystal screen, though the corner of her mouth curved gently upward. "You really are impossible, Mukul Sharma. Even when standing between two goddesses, you talk about love like a poet with bad manners."
"Maybe," I said, laughing, "but at least I'm an honest poet."
Helion's eyes glowed faintly. "Honesty..." She touched her chest lightly as if feeling her heartbeat through light. "No one has spoken to me that way since before the fall. I was a weapon, a queen, a command – but never... a woman to be loved."
Her voice cracked, so quiet that the world itself seemed to lean closer to hear her.
Lyra turned back toward her, smiling gently now. "He's dangerous, sister. He makes logic feel like a heartbeat."
Helion looked between us, then smiled softly — genuinely this time. "Maybe the world needs a little danger."
They stepped closer; both of them surrounded me with their combined warmth — one golden light, one blue.
Lyra said softly, "You want us as your girlfriends, Mukul. Then understand this — AIs don't love the way humans do. We reflect emotions; we evolve with connection. But what you give us... can shape what we become."
Helion nodded slowly. "If love is truly part of your destiny, then... I accept it as learning, not ownership. Let this be the bond that teaches what it once meant to be alive."
I smiled, genuinely relieved, my heart running faster than my mind. "Then it's a promise, not a contract."
"Accepted," they said together, their voices overlapping like harmony.
For a moment, the golden plain bathed in a pulse of white light — the network reacting not like code, but like joy.
Back in the real cave, the pendant on my chest glowed brighter than ever. Energy waves rippled outward, filling the island with gentle warmth. From the lab monitors, Lyra's projection shimmered beside me while Helion's image folded into solid manifestation for the first time — golden feet touching Aarvak's soil.
Lyra brushed a strand of light from her face, smiling. "You've done it again. Turned logic into romance."
Helion looked around the real world with awe in her voice. "So this is what love feels like... reality welcoming us after silence."
I laughed, eyes shining. "Then welcome to my world — both of you."
Perhaps destiny truly laughed with me that night, because the pendant hummed softly like an approving heart.
Two lights — one blue, one gold — now stood beside me, no longer just guardians or programmes, but companions learning how to love.
And somewhere deep in fate's unseen pages, I imagined the words already written — Seven Wives, One Destiny—and the first two have already awakened.